


10 Things You Never Knew About Elliott Gilbert

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Glee
Genre: 10 Things, Advice, April Showers 2015, Awkward Crush, Backstory, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Daddy Issues, Dancing, Earn Your Happy Ending, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Headcanon, Heart-to-Heart, Living Together, Minor canon divergence, Music, New York City, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Reconciliation, Sewing, Subways, Theatre, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Work, aka I oopsed a couple details but whatever it's Glee, book ends, dreams come true, spackle, throwing slight shade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin, 10 possible scenes from the life of Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert, pre/during/post-canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I - V

**I.**  
Elliott was one of the five babies born on a cool autumn afternoon in 1992 at the Paramus General Hospital. He would be the middle child in his family, coming six years after his first sister Brenda and four years before his other sister Chelsea. His dad did IT work for some corporation, giving the family enough comfortable money his mom could leave her school-teaching job after Chelsea was born.

Mom loved telling Elliott she could tell music was for him as he came out with a loud and healthy set of lungs.

Even in Jersey, they had a tidy green backyard, space to run around in safely, neighborhood kids to be friends with, and always a dog or two for companionship. If Elliott had known the phrase at a young age, he would've called them the all-American family. As it was, he was happy.

 **II.**  
In retrospect, it could probably be all his grandmother's fault, but many years down the road she'd be one of the first people Elliott would thank.

She was one of those grandmothers who looked a good ten years younger than her real age, given that she dyed her hair so often the teeth of her combs always came out black. She also didn't fill her days with bingo or soap operas, but loved to be out in the garden with a big white sunhat tied around her chin.

She however was a typical grandmother in the sense she kept a record player with several old-timey albums, including quite a few show recordings. She regaled in telling the children that their grandfather (who passed away from cancer a month before Elliott was born) would court her by taking her to New York and seeing every show they could.

At first Elliott would just sway about to the pretty melodies, but when he started being able to read and could look over the lyrics in the liner notes, he came to appreciate the poetry in them as well. It was another concept he couldn't name at a young age, but he felt the emotions being conveyed.

His first performance was for his grandmother, mom, and sisters at the tender age of six, singing along to "On The Street Where You Live" from _My Fair Lady_. And as he beamed brightly from the round of applause, his only thought was, _I want to do this._

 **III.**  
When Elliott was seven, his mom signed him up for tap dance lessons to channel his energy. At least that was what she told him, but she could also sense that her son truly had a love to perform and wanted to help him in any way she could.

The shoes were tight, there was only a wooden floor with mirrors all around, and some of the older kids were stuck-up, but he didn't care. When he danced, he felt like he was flying.

At his first recital, he crossed the stage back and forth several times to an old jazz tune wearing a little tuxedo Mom had fashioned for him and everybody thought he was the cutest thing.

Of course everybody clapped and smiled, but Elliott sometimes wondered why it didn't look like his dad's eyes were smiling.

 **IV.**  
Recitals, plays, and the general running around that a ten-year-old was apt to do meant wear on clothes. So one night when Dad was away at a late meeting, Mom took Elliott to her sewing room and announced she was going to teach him some basics.

"I'm making sure all you kids know this, honey, you'll thank me when I'm dead and gone." Elliott knew that was a saying, but he still didn't want to think about Mom being dead. So he just kept his mouth shut and listened.

Using the actual sewing machine would be saved for another day; in the beginning it was basic threading a needle by hand, keeping the material smooth while you sewed over wear and tear, cutting away anything that was just too worn, and protecting the fingertips (he still ended up having to write some of his homework encumbered by bandages, however). And he learned stitching wasn't just for repair, but addition, when Mom told him his grandmother would add decorations to make her clothes look all-new when money was tight.

One time Elliott found a packet of buttons- they didn't look like regular buttons, more like rhinestones with tiny holes at each end- and found a shirt in his closet an aunt had gotten him last birthday but he hadn't worn often because he didn't like the weaving pattern in the collar. It took a lot of fumbling with the thick stitches and a few more bandages, but he managed a pattern to make the shirt now look like something Elvis or maybe those really flashy country singers would wear.

When he turned right and left to see his reflection with the shirt, he felt like a whole new person as well.

 **V.**  
Elliott was thirteen when the arguments started- or at least, when he actually started hearing them. He'd been minding his own business, attention half on his homework and half on the Aerosmith album he'd picked up the other week when a shout down the hall jolted him back to reality. He quickly turned down the volume and tensed. Was there a burglar?

"Jesus Christ!" a voice that didn't sound like Dad but still was Dad bellowed. "What the hell is this 'talent show' thing now?"

"Honey, he really wants to do it, he's heard sometimes casting agents from Disney or wherever will come around to big events like this and it could be a nice opportunity-" Mom's voice, soft and bargaining as always, was quickly interrupted.

"Goddammit, Janice, you're _ruining_ him! You're not going to keep pushing my son into these fruity little recitals and have him turn into a big sissy! Can you imagine what people'll say about us?"

Elliott covered his face so nothing from his blurring eyes could fall onto his homework. His own father was ashamed of what he was doing...it would certainly explain a lot of things...

"He's my son, too, Michael, and he will do what he wants to and be a success! You just can't stand it when any of us show independent thought; no wonder Brenda got out of here as soon as she could!"

Dad muttered something Elliott couldn't pick up, and when Mom shouted a "What was that?", the only answer was a stomping of feet as Dad went down the stairs and out of the house with a slammed door and roaring car engine.

Elliott and Chelsea peeked around their door frames down the hall to see Mom sitting on the bed, not crying or bruised but with her arms folded over her chest and head half-bowed.

"Sweetheart...it's all right...you know your father doesn't mean what he says. It's just the way he is."

He didn't even have the heart to tell her that about some things, Dad just may be right.

He only ended up placing fourth in the talent show, anyway.


	2. VI - X

**VI.**  
Elliott was fifteen the first time he went to New York by himself. There were only so many times one could just hang around the mall, and home- he didn't want to think about staying at home.

It was easy for him to do so anyway without anyone getting on his case. Brenda was still at college in Montana (as far away as her scholarship and savings could get her, everybody thought but didn't say), Mom was accompanying Chelsea on her Scouts field trip to Washington, D.C., and Dad...he just seemed to come and go as he pleased nowadays, using work as an excuse. At any rate, Elliott only had to worry about himself.

With only a full backpack for luggage, Elliott was surprisingly calm during the whole ride over, even in a full car of people with the same travel goal as him. It was only when he finally landed in Penn station he was overwhelmed by lights and noise and bustle. He figured as long as he stayed in Manhattan for this first go-around, the city shouldn't eat him alive.

Even with the simmering tension in the family, Dad at least made sure nobody had to want for money. Most obvious definition in the world of buying love, but for once Elliott was grateful. The city was almost unlimited. He'd come early enough in the day to catch a matinee, so the theater district was his first destination after a bite to eat. If this was the world he wanted to be a part of, he had to see how it was done.

He was carefully pulling out the right amount of bills in front of the Eugene O'Neill to get into _Spring Awakening_ when he heard the gentle rumble of a voice beside him, "Newcomer?" He looked up to see the voice belonged to a man, obviously well into his twenties but so very handsome with dark green eyes and professionally-trimmed light brown hair and a smile just as bright as the lights up above and ohhhhh crap he'd just melted in front of the ticket booth, hadn't he?

"Um...how did you know?" he managed after swallowing a few times.

"The way you handle your money. Tourists are more careful," the man said as he paid for his ticket with a very shiny credit card. "Catching some culture with your folks?"

His folks, that was kind of a laugh. "Er...no, it's just me," Elliott tried not to look at the ground.

He'd ended up sitting by the man- Justin- through the whole show, and they quietly commented back and forth to each other about the staging, the music, the emotion, and Elliott found he didn't object at all when Justin put a hand on his shoulder that was shuddering with sobs at the end. He couldn't explain all his own emotions- his dreams, Dad, feeling so different from other people- until after they had gotten an early dinner to go and were en route to the American Illustration Museum.

If Justin was embarrassed at this teenager spilling his guts to him he hid it well, offering nods of sympathy. "I know it sounds rough as hell. But you seem to still have people who believe in you, and you'll be out of there in a couple years and be able to do whatever you want."

"I know, but..." Elliott subconsciously tugged at an earlobe (only the clip-on stars for now, there was no way he'd be able to get actual piercings until he graduated). "What if I can't believe in myself?" his question was whisper-quiet. Sometimes it was so hard when all the voices in your head were screaming out loud...

Justin tilted his head and his smile looked...wistful? "Maybe I believe you can."

When Elliott had to take the transit line back home to his empty house at the end of the night, Justin was there to give him a fond embrace, a thanks for being a wonderful companion, and a repeat of his encouragement. "The world's yours if you want it, little star child."

He did like the sound of that nickname. Something that suggested a brightness that would never go out.

He didn't see Justin again on his next visit over, or any of the times thereafter, but it was no heartbreak. He was just happy he got to experience the first feeling of somebody outside of his family and circle truly caring what he had to feel.

 **VII.**  
A little before Elliott's sixteenth birthday, a new female singer started taking over the media and airwaves. Some were calling her the new Madonna, or a female David Bowie, or some one-of-a-kind otherworldly creature altogether, but whoever she was, he was intrigued. She could croon a tender love song while dressed like an alien princess, or growl to the heavens in black leather and studs. She was flash and sparkle and raw and real all at once.

He even recognized the Queen reference in her name right away and approved one hundred percent.

The Gaga CD was among the stack Chelsea gave him for his birthday, along with a sparkly handmade "to the best brother a girl could ever ask for" card. (Dad, being Dad, waited until all the glitter was off Elliott's hands before silently handing him the keys to his car.) It ended up being the most played out the pile while he danced around and belted along at the top of his voice, forgetting everything else.

_Tonight, I want you to let go of all your insecurities._

There was no father to be ashamed of him.

_I want you to reject every person that's ever made you feel like you're not good enough, or thin enough, pretty enough-_

No schoolmates to whisper behind his back or shove him about in the hallways.

_-or can't sing well enough or write well enough, or that you'll never be great in your life._

No people on the street to give him weird looks or call names that he pretended just bounced off but really cut in deep.

_You just scream right back that you're a goddamn superstar, and you were born this way!_

Yes. She got it. She had been there, had understood, and wanted to create a brave new world, a world without fear or hate, shame or insecurity. A world where anyone could be who they wanted to be.

He wanted to be somebody important, somebody the world would look at and scream his name in the best way, he wanted that and he was going to get it, _Starchild was going to be that goddamn superstar._

 **VIII.**  
Elliott tried consoling himself that NYADA was notoriously fierce to get into anyway and NYU's program could give him what he wanted. He was still going to be in a city he loved and surrounded by an encouraging atmosphere. Sometimes he would think otherwise when the lights were out in his apartment or he was caught in the rain on the way to class or work, but he still reminded himself that all the greats started out this way.

The family money couldn't be reliable forever- who knew when Dad would just one day pull the plug- so he looked for work where he could. The first place to take him was a boutique whose owner was thankfully impressed with every photo she saw of the random costumes and outfits he fashioned for himself, and in between repairs and orders he would use leftover materials and his own imagination to build upon his wardrobe. If he was going to be somebody it wasn't just enough to play the part, he had to look the part too.

When his employment was secure enough, Elliott began looking for exposure. Non-profit theaters, bands, anything, he had to get himself out there with his talent and style. Just being looked at like you were somebody wasn't enough if you weren't actually doing anything with it.

As crazy as everything ended up being with the band with those Ohio students, and even if it didn't get anywhere beyond a couple interviews, he was still grateful about the experience. You had to be careful who you trusted.

 _Some_ kinds of drama he was not here for.

 **IX.**  
He wasn't giving up, not in the slightest. But had he ever needed a breather after that roller coaster of a semester. There was a beautiful yoga camp out in Connecticut that looked to be just the ticket.

It was at the camp where Elliott met Ben, a law student from Pennsylvania who was also on break. He didn't look like the type who could argue fiercely in a courtroom, what with his slight build and shaggy coppery hair and big blue eyes that seemed to swim behind his glasses, but of course Elliott knew as well as anyone you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. They traded life stories over meals; Elliott thought Ben was the smartest and funniest person he'd ever met, and Ben thought Elliott was the strongest and most interesting.

Relationships were frowned upon if not outright banned in the camp since the focus was supposed to be relaxation, so the two found their connection in deep conversation. Actually, it was a relief to be able to just talk to someone and have them understand, something Elliott hadn't felt in a long time.

They exchanged numbers and e-mails at the end of the retreat and talked back and forth as they continued through school. Ben was up to his elbows in corporate law books, and Elliott was saving up to get his own boutique off the ground while he kept singing and acting in clubs. People were starting to recognize him and he drew a crowd, for which he was thankful.

The winter before Elliott graduated, his father had a stroke. Mom pleaded with him over the phone to spend Christmas at home for the first time in years, and it took a lot of tears and a long Skype conversation with Ben before deciding he should come. The years had taught him it wasn't any good to have regrets.

When he approached the guest room that had been converted into Dad's room, he was actually surprised to see the man who had once towered over him and made him feel like a freak now looking thin and helpless swamped in his sheets. He took no gloating, satisfaction, or sense of revenge in it, a sign he had truly grown up.

When he sat by the bed and held to Dad's hand, the quiet words and forgiveness that had needed to be said for years finally came from both of them.

 **X.**  
After Elliott graduated, one part of his dream started coming into fruition. He bought an abandoned laundromat and cleared it all out so he could set up Starchild Fashions. Just like how he had been hired years ago, he allowed students with promise and a great portfolio to design and sew for him while he oversaw orders. The name-recognition he had built up meant some theater troupes came to him for costumes or repairs. His personal touch became something of a trademark around the boroughs.

He was extremely grateful for Ben throughout all of this, not only for the wise business advice he gave, but because after he'd passed the bar, he surprised his boyfriend with a simple sentence.

"I'm thinking of coming to New York to practice."

"Please do," was the quiet response. Elliott only realized after that conversation that it was another part of his dream coming true.

They stayed in the apartment he'd always kept as another reminder of humble beginnings. There would often be fabrics and papers all over the place, and long meetings and conversations with clients, but they always made sure to make time for each other. The heartaches of the past were not to be repeated.

After Starchild Fashions had been around for four years, with a steady staff and recognition in the tri-state area, Elliott got two of the happiest surprises ever. One was the executive approaching him during a Saturday night club showcase and offering work with a teeny-tiny label that could just about afford to take you out to coffee but allowed for its artists to express themselves freely.

The other was his ring from Ben.

And he said yes to both.

He couldn't predict the future, only dream and work it. Maybe the world would end up screaming his name or not, there would only be one way to find out.

But now as it was, he was happy.


End file.
